


Tastes Like Regret

by safety_dancer



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4830335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safety_dancer/pseuds/safety_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regret is sickening, Jason finds</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tastes Like Regret

“Do I  _have_ to go?” Jason whined, a grimace contorting his features as he tugged at his green tie. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Bruce had to work to keep the grin off his face. Jason was worse than Dick about these charity balls, which was saying a lot, as his first son hated them with a passion (still did). He disliked them as well, but they were necessary to maintain his identity. 

“But why? It’s not like anyone would care either way. I can just stay here with Alfred and–”

“No, Jay,” Bruce interrupted, stooping over to straighten the boy’s askew tie. “Don’t worry, we’ll only be there for a few hours, okay? I need you to do this.” 

“Ugh, fine. Maybe I can find a pretty girl to chitchat with.” 

“You do that.” Jason grinned at Bruce’s eyeroll, already heading for the waiting car. “One thing I will say,” he said once both were in the limo, “I do love the rides. I need me a limo.”

“You can’t drive yet.”

“I meant when I  _can_. Duh.” 

“Well, you probably won’t get one then, either.” Jason flopped against the seat dramatically, mock pout in place. 

“I knew you were gonna say that.”

“I was thinking about something more along the lines of a Lamborghini.” Jason raised his eyebrow, sitting up straight.

“No kidding?”

“Kidding.” 

“You suck, you know that?” Bruce laughed, reaching out to ruffle his son’s hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

~~~

“–and everything is just so splendidly decorated and so lovely!” Bruce smiled at the woman in front of him. She had been talking non-stop for the past twenty minutes, and to be honest, he hadn’t caught most of it. 

“Ah, very true, Miss Violet.” 

“I just love parties like this. It’s so nice to meet so many…” her voice faded out as he cast his eyes about the expansive ballroom, searching for a sign of his son, whom he hadn’t seen in nearly two hours. He felt suspicion rising up and he made his excuses to the lady, walking off in search of the boy. 

“Alfred,” he whispered, catching the man’s elbow as he passed. “Have you seen Jay?” 

“I thought I saw him near the food tables last, sir, though that was over thirty minutes ago.” Bruce rolled his eyes. Food, of course. A kid’s best friend.

“Thanks, Alfred.” He strode over to the large tables that were practically sagging under the weight of the trays and platters filled with delicacies. “Jason?” He was about to move on, having not seen his son, when he felt something touch his leg. Looking down, he blinked at the small hand that vanished underneath the table. Kneeling down, he pulled aside the table cloth, eyes widening when he saw his son lying on the floor, eyes closed. There were crumbs littering his suit jacket, chocolate smeared in the corner of his lips. 

“Hey, B. Cookie?” He held up a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie before letting his hand drop, groaning quietly. 

“Jason Todd. How long have you been–how many of those have you eaten?” 

“I don’t know anymore. A lot? Bruce, I’ve tasted regret, and it’s sickening.” Bruce swallowed a laugh, leaning further under to be able to scoop the boy into his arms. Jason curled up, grumbling slightly. “I never wanna see another cookie in my life.”

“I’m sure you’ll be changing your mind by tomorrow.” 

“I swear I won’t. Oh my gosh, I wanna go home, B.” His pitiful whimper caused Bruce to sigh, holding him close as he made for the exit. Several attendees stared after them, some with worry, others in confusion. Alfred hurried over, a tiny, amused smile quirking his lips. 

“I’ll get the car started, Master Bruce.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Uh, we might want a plastic bag or something for the ride home.” He grimaced, motioning to Jason. Alfred nodded, bustling off. 

“Bruce?”

“Yes, son?”

“This should be plenty of reason not to ever take me to another gala or ball or whatever, okay?” Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’ll take that into account, kiddo.”


End file.
